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Jim could barely remember the last time his childhood home had seen a quiet afternoon. It certainly wasn’t quiet now.
Settled on the couch, he spared a glance at little Zelda from time to time, her small, excited figure bouncing up and down on a playmat in the middle of the living room floor. She seemed content with her current pastime - banging building blocks together, the noise filling the air along with her giggles. Despite the racket, Jim didn’t see any reason to interfere with her playing. There was the relatively harmless danger of her tiny fingers getting caught between the blocks, but… Well, some lessons are better taught by small mistakes than warning words - or so he thought.
“Riiiight, I wonder where I picked that one up.” He mumbled, more to himself than to the second toddler on his lap. “Not sure how I feel about that, I tell you.” That’s what he said, but he knew. Knew it by the fond smile on his lips as he pondered the thought. Knew it in the way he gently ruffled the soft black hair of the boy in front of him.
Young Walt was quite uninterested in his words. His eerily familiar green eyes were instead fixed on his adoptive sister, who had just discovered that the blocks could, in fact, be stacked on top of each other.
“Okay. Maybe we can try that book now, huh? Before your sister gets going again.” Jim held Walt close and reached out for the story book on the coffee table, but halted and looked up when he heard the sound of clawed feet on wood approaching.
Strickler entered, little Otto in his arms, carefully navigating the toy littered living room. An exercise that wasn’t made easier by Otto, who cheerfully bumped Strickler’s nose with the palm of his hand. Prominent as it was on Strickler’s face, it was always a favorite with the children.
“Alright you rascal, go play.” Strickler said with gentle gruffness, sitting the boy’s freshly diapered behind down on the mat. The arrival of his brother prompted young Walt to start wriggling on Jim’s lap. Jim placed him on the ground and watched him waddle over to his siblings. The boy plopped down next to Zelda and promptly swatted at her growing tower of blocks. Ever the troublemaker. The blocks clattered on the floor, Otto gaped open mouthed, and Jim and Strickler both watched with halted breath, waiting for Zelda’s reaction. Thankfully, the girl only let out a joyful shriek and began her second attempt with even more zeal. Strickler nodded approvingly.
Settling back on the couch, Jim took out his phone, but looked up soon after when he realized Strickler was still just… standing there. Staring at the children and fidgeting with the hem of his left sleeve.
Okay. Something was up.
As if he could feel Jim’s questioning stare - and Jim didn’t think it unlikely - Strickler turned to look at him, a confident smile spreading across his face. Jim didn’t buy it, not for one second.
“Jim!” Strickler said jovially and gestured towards the nearest spot on the couch. “Mind if I sit?”
Okay, something was definitely up.
“Uh, yeah? Why ask? It’s your house too, dude!” Jim gave him a showman-like smile to rival his own. “Don’t make it awkward again.”
“Yes, well, hmmm…” Strickler sat down hesitantly, his back a little too straight, and his hands a little too neatly folded in his lap. “You see, there’s something I would like to talk about…”
Jim shoved his phone back in his pocket and leaned forward curiously. He watched Strickler reach inside his jacket and pull out a small.... box, of sorts? It was oval, just big enough to fit in the palm of one hand, and - as far as Jim could tell - made of brown leather. It looked in good shape, yet something about it felt old to Jim. Although, that might just be because everything about Strickler felt old sometimes. Most times.
“I know, I wasn’t always deserving of a place in your family, and…” Strickler cleared his throat, his voice carried little of his usual self-confidence. “...and perhaps I never will be.” He held the box out to Jim. On closer inspection, Jim could tell it really was old. And then he suddenly realized what kind of a box it was.
“Jim Lake. Would you allow me to ask for your mother’s hand in marriage?”
By now Jim’s eyes had left the box to stare directly at Strickler’s face, at a loss for words. The moment might have dragged on awkwardly, if it hadn’t been interrupted by another clatter of falling toy blocks, followed by another gleeful shriek and giggle.“No wait, hang on!”Jim gesticulated wildly, one hand thrusting out towards the box, palm first as if to shove it away. “You’re asking me ?! Uuuh, I’m pretty sure that’s something you should talk about with mom?” He pulled up his shoulders and laughed nervously. “I mean! I knew you were old-fashioned, but this …”
Strickler shook his head, his smile more genuine now, soft and perhaps a bit relieved that Jim’s immediate reaction hadn’t been outright dismissal. “It’s not like that. I would like to know if you’d feel comfortable with it, that is all.” He lifted the box a little, encouraging Jim to take it.
Jim obliged and opened it carefully to examine its contents. A silver ring with a slim filigree band and a faceted stone of deep green, that Jim - who didn’t know a whole lot about mineralogy - would have called an emerald. Strickler could have more correctly identified it as chrome tourmaline, had Jim cared to ask. Much like the box, the ring felt old, although it certainly looked shiny and brand new.
“We do have quite the history, you and I,” Strickler said now, with a light chuckle. “So. I would like your approval before I bring it up with her.”
‘Quite the history’ was putting it lightly, Jim thought, staring at the ring in his hands. They’d been living under the same roof for a long while now, and it certainly hadn’t been easy at first. Not easy for Jim, that is. But then, nothing had been easy for him in the aftermath of everything that had happened. Strickler had been remarkably patient, and had weathered Jim’s lingering anger and frustration with humility and understanding. With time, countless cups of tea, and many, many late night talks, Jim’s remarks against his former teacher and enemy had become less cutting scorn, and more light-hearted teasing.
And once again, Jim just couldn’t help himself.
“Looks expensive!”
Jim snapped the box shut with a sharp crack that made even the composed Strickler flinch. Then he fixed on the changeling's wide eyes with a deadpan stare.
“Well, I sure hope you kept the receipt.”
“Oh. I see.” Strickler mustered a sad smile, but his slumping posture told Jim that perhaps his joke had been out of line this time. “It’s an old heirloom that’s been in my possession for centuries. I suppose I could find an antiquar to sell it-”
“Whoa! Hey!” Jim waved his free hand in a placating gesture. “I was joking! Sarcasm? That’s usually your thing?” He held out the box with an encouraging grin. “Here. You’re fine.”
Strickler shot him an incredulous look as he reached towards the box, and Jim had to admit that he felt extremely pleased, seeing Strickler unnerved like that. An uncommon situation that just screamed to be exploited.
Just as Strickler's clawed fingers took hold of the box, Jim’s other hand shot out to rest on Strickler's stony wrist. Strickler’s eyes snapped up and found Jim’s clear blue stare fixed on him again.
“I know she loves you,” Jim said levelly. “And I can see how happy she is. And you, well...” Jim hesitated. The true weight of what Strickler was asking him - what Strickler was going to ask his mom if Jim gave his consent - was just beginning to settle on him. Jim thought he was giving his approval for his mom’s sake - if being with Strickler made her happy, Jim could be happy with it too, right? But it wasn’t just for her sake. He realized that, when he felt the slight tremble of Strickler’s hand under his touch, realized it as he looked into hopeful amber eyes. Eyes that dared hope not only for acceptance… but for love as well.
“You…” Jim’s voice was shaky now, nothing of its previous flippancy left. His throat felt hot, the words just wouldn’t come past it. And he could feel the weight fall off his shoulders when he became aware of how little that bothered him now. To show this kind of weakness in front of Strickler. No, it wasn’t just for her sake.
“I guess you’ve earned your place in our family.” Jim let go of the box and of Strickler’s wrist, raised a hand to wipe at his eyes with a defiant sniff. Then it shot out to wag one pointed index finger directly in front of Strickler’s face. “Just don’t screw this up!” His grin was wide, his eyes gentle (and wet, but he tried not to think about it.) “You know what my sword on your throat feels like.”
Strickler leaned back, the ring box pressed close to his heart. “I’ll behave, promise.” Jim could’ve sworn his voice sounded even more hoarse than usual. A fond smile spread across Strickler’s face and then a relieved chuckle rumbled from deep within chest. “Thank you, young Atlas.”
Jim relaxed as well, wiping the last of the dampness in his eyes away. He caught Strickler doing the same, though he did it with his whole body turned away to watch the children, pretending to scratch his nose, the sly bastard.
“So,” Jim said loudly, determined not to let this moment linger on into awkwardness. “When are you going to ask her? Nooo, wait-” He held up one hand, eyes rolling dramatically. “Don’t tell me. You’re probably gonna make it all grand and corny and embarrassing.”
“Believe it or not, but...no.” Strickler was facing Jim again, absentmindedly turning the ring box over and over in his hands, his voice quiet and tender. “There’s… a lot to consider. I’d rather not put her on the spot with a flashy display.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but once again Jim couldn’t quite buy into the lighthearted gesture. “So, we’ll just have a talk about it. Tomorrow, maybe…”
“Waaaaaait…” Jim narrowed his eyes at Strickler. Glanced down at Strickler’s hands, still fidgeting with the box, then nailed him with a sharp stare and a disarming grin. “You’re having cold feet!”
The box stopped its spinning, abruptly. Long fingers curled tightly around it, as if seeking reassurance. “I most certainly don’t-”
“Yeah, you do!” Jim laughed openly now, incredibly pleased at seeing Strickler wide eyed and flustered yet again. From the floor, three tiny voices joined in with giggles of their own, unaware of the source of Jim’s laughter, yet infected by it all the same. “You’re afraid she’ll say no!”
“I just... Look, I’m merely trying to be considerate-”
“Sure, sure.” Jim bit his lip to try and regain some seriousness. Which proved difficult with Strickler right in his view, chest puffed out in indignation like some insulted rooster, bruised ego and all. Maybe a change of topic was in order.
“No look, it’s gotta be special somehow !” Jim rubbed his chin, gears turning in his head and excitement taking over as he thought about what he could do for his mom. For both of them. “ Jeez, Toby is usually the man for this sort of stuff, but… If you want to keep it small, how about dinner for two?” Jim was really getting into it now and he took out his phone to type a few messages right on the spot. Strickler looked on, bewildered at the turns this conversation was taking. The Lakes never quite realized how disarming their generosity could be, and Jim was oblivious to it in this very moment. “I’ll get my friends together to take care of the kids. You better pick up one of those fancy wines with a name I can’t pronounce.” Jim looked up from his phone, excitement plain on his face. “And I’ll cook for you. Plenty of time for you two to talk!”
“Now just wait-” Strickler tilted his head, embarrassed and very aware of the fact that he should be the one to do this sort of planning.”Jim, you don’t have to-”
“I want to!” Jim didn’t leave any room for hesitation or embarrassment. “I really want to.” Another disarming smile. “Mom deserves the best, right?” And so do you.
Strickler nodded. Slowly, hesitantly at first, then with conviction. Jim’s excitement proved just as infectious as his laughter. “Right…Right! The very best...” Strickler clutched the ring box in his hands tightly, close to his heart again. “Jim, say…Would you - I might be getting ahead of myself here, ha.” A single nervous titter escaped him. “But if she agrees, would you...be my best man? It would be the greatest honor.” That last part - stilted as it was - was added so Strickler could regain a bit of his composure. In his hands the little box started spinning again.
Jim played along with his grandeur for but a second. “The honor would be all mine… Is what you would say, but I’m not lame like you! Sure, I’ll be your best man!” He finger gunned in a gesture that would have been embarrassing on him just a few years back, but that now came across with all the endearing confidence of one who had learned to embrace his inherent awkwardness. “It’ll be crispy.” He said with a wink that was the final proverbial nail in Strickler’s attempt to lend this moment any kind of gravitas.
Strickler couldn’t help but laugh.
“I see.” He snorted. “Thank you, Jim.” And then, another ill-fated attempt at seriousness: “Words cannot express how-”
“Nope, lame!” Jim jumped up. If the situation was about to turn awkward, he wanted no part in it. And besides, his head was filled with planning, he couldn’t possibly sit still right now. “I need to get some groceries for your dinner tomorrow. I’ll take your car, yeah?” He squeezed by Strickler and made for the front door, ruffling little Walt’s hair in passing. Grabbing his bag from the banister and hastily slipping into a pair of shoes, he was struck by another thought. “Oh, and I need to start thinking about my best man's speech!” He said, car keys jangling as he opened the door. “Which will not be lame!”
“But you don’t even know if-” Strickler yelled after him, but the door had already clicked shut.
Strickler looked down at the ring box in his hands, his voice very small now:
“You don’t even know if she’ll say yes.”
“So...Walter Lake?”
They had long finished their meal and each said their words. Many of them. The open ring box sat between them on the dinner table, the ring still inside - a question asked and an answer half given.
Barbara looked up from the box, his would-be name on her lips. Her sapphire eyes left the moss green of the gemstone to look into eyes that were of that exact same color when she fell in love with them - but that now shone in that brilliant yellow and red she had grown to love even more.
“If you’ll have me,” he said, chin resting on folded hands, those eyes fixed on her, still waiting for a decisive answer.
She never understood how he could make that fanged smile of his look so gentle. Nor how his rough voice could sound so timid.
“And you seriously asked Jim for his blessings?” she asked, head tilted, with a smile of her own. Oh, how she wished to know how that conversation went.
He spread his hands in a gesture that encompassed the entire table. “Hence, the fancy dinner.”
“Walter...Lake… Walter Lake.” Looking at the ring again, she repeated the words. Felt them on her lips. They felt...right. “Walter Lake. I do like the sound of that.” She looked up at him and found his eyes narrowed with mirth.
“So, would you say…” he said slowly, drawing out the moment, relishing in the way her expression slacked when she realized what was about to happen. He picked up the box, gave it a little shake. “...it has a nice ring to it?”
“Ugh…” she groaned, fingers rubbing at her temple. “I walked right into that one. Hand over that ring already, so I can divorce you.”
He did as she asked, a pleased grin on his lips that he just couldn’t hide. His long fingers picked up the ring and his other hand took hold of hers gently. She watched, eyes widening as he carefully slid the ring on her own finger.
“Walt... Your hands are shaking,” she whispered fondly. She searched his face, her eyes sparkling. How on earth had he managed to hide his nerves from her until now?
“Hush.” He brought her ringed hand to his lips, kissed it tenderly, eyes shut. Let his lips linger there. He didn’t trust himself to speak, she noticed, now that she was more aware of his feelings.
She slid her hand away from his lips and around his face, cupping it gently. Pulled him closer, her own head leaning forward at the same time. His eyes fluttered open briefly, then their foreheads touched, and came to rest against one another, soft skin pressed against cool stone. They sat there in silence, eyes closed to the rest of the world.
She pulled away after a while, reluctantly, but she needed to see those eyes again. They opened to look at her, a soft glow in the dimly lit room. “Will you marry me?” she asked, another tender sparkle in her own eyes that was threatening to spill over now.
His smile became lopsided. “Isn’t that my line?” One hand reached for her face, curled to hide sharp claws. Smooth stone wiped away a single glittering drop that had found itself on her cheek after all.
She grabbed his hand, held it tightly, her nose wrinkled in amusement. “Should have learned the script! Well?”
He leaned back a little, raised his head theatrically. “I will. Barbara Lake, if you’d make an honest man out of me-”
“No!” She laughed brightly, let go of his hand and pressed her index finger against his lips. “No, please! No corny speeches until I’ve had that wine you denied me earlier!”
“Alright.” He kissed her finger, then gently pulled her hand away from his face. His hands reached for the wine and corkscrew. A toothy grin flashed in her direction. “Just wanted to make sure you kept a clear head.” He uncorked the bottle with practiced movements and she watched through half-lidded eyes, head tilted and cheek resting on folded hands. One of her slender fingers rubbed the cool surface of the gemstone on her hand. Dark wine ran smoothly into both their glasses.
She sat up straighter once the cups were filled.
“To family,” he said. They raised their glasses, eyes locked, a smile on both their faces.
“All kinds are welcome,” she replied to the soft chime of their glasses touching.